The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-03-12
A WINTER GARDEN.


prefer, to any glass roof which Sir
Joseph Paxton ever planned, that dome
above my head, some three miles high, of
soft dappled gray and yellow cloud,
through the vast lattice work whereof
the blue sky peeps, and sheds down tep-
der CLEANS on yellow boys, and softly
rounded heather knobs, and pale chalk
ranges cleaning far away. But, above
all, glory in my evergreens. What win
ter garden can compare for them with
mine? True, have but four kinds
Scotch fir, holly, furze and the heath; and
by way OF relief to them, only brows of
brown fern, sheets of yellow bog grass,
and here and there a leahess birch,
whose purple tresses are even more lovely
to my eye than those fragrant green ones
which she puts on in spring.
Well, in painting, as in music, what
effects are more grand than those pro-
duced by the scientific combination, in
endless new variety, of few simple ele-
ments? Enough for me is the one pur-
pie birch; the bright hollies round its
stem sparkling with scarlet beads; the
furze patch, rich with its lace work of
interviewer light and shade, tipped here
and there with golden bud; the deep,
soft heather carpet, which invites you to
lie down and dream for hours; and, be-
hind ell, the wall of red fir stems, and
the dark fir roof with it's jagged edges a
mile long, against the soft gray sky.
An ugly, straight edged, monotoaous
fir plantation? Well, like it outside
and inside. need no saw-edge of
mountain peaks to stir up my magma
ton with the sense of the sublime, while
can watch the saw edge of those fir
peaks against the red sunset. They are
my Appetite ones, it may be; but, after
all, what is size? A phantom of our brain
an optical delusion.
Grandeur, if you will consider wisely,
consists in form, not in size; and to the
eye of the philosopher the curve drawn
on paper two inches long is just az
magnificent, just as symbolic of divine
mysteries and melodies, as when en-
bodied in the span of some cathedral
roof.
Have you eyes to see? Then lie down
on the grass, and look near enough to
see something more of what is to be seen,
and you will find tropie iungles in every
square foot Of turf, mountain cliffs and
debRcles at the mouth of every rabbit
burrow, dark strids, tremendous cata-
racts, deep glooms and sudden glories,"
in every foot broad rill which wanders
through the turf All is there for you
to see, if you will but rid yourself of "that
idol of Space" and nature, as every one
will tell you who has seen dissected an
insect under the microscope, is grand
and graceful in her smallest as in her
hugest forms.
The March breeze is chilly, but l can
always be warm, if l like, in my winter
garden. / turn my horses head to the
red wall of fir stems, and leap over the
Homegrown bank into my cathedral,
wherein, if there be no saints, there are
likewise no priestcraft and no idols, but
endless vistas of smooth, red, green
veined shafts holding up the warm, dark
roof, lesseninR away into endless gloom,
paved with rich brown fir needless car
pet at which Nature has been at work
for forty years red shafts, green roof,
and here and there a pane of blue sky
- while for incense L have the fresh,
healthy turpentine fragrance.
There is not breath of air within; but
the breeze signs over the roof above in
a soft whisper. I shut my eyes and
listen. Surely that is the murmer of the
summer sea upon the summer sands in
Devon far away. L hear the innumer-
able wavelets spend themselves gently up
on the shore, and die away TO rise again.
And with the innumerabls wave-sighs
come imnumerable memories, and faces
which / shall never see again upon this |
earth. will not tell even you OF that,
old friend.
1t has two notes, two keys rather, that |
Eolian harp of fir needles above my head |
according as the wind is east or west, the |
needles dry or wet. This easterly key of |
to-day is shriller more cheerful, warmer